


For Every Star In Heaven (There's A Sad Soul Here Today)

by nothingelsematters



Series: Long Away [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anita and Sarina are cool bros, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Poly queen, all of the angst, also possibly ooc, did I mention it was angst yet, mention of therapists, poly borhap cast makes a cameo, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 14:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17982689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingelsematters/pseuds/nothingelsematters
Summary: Roger and Brian return to their room to find an unexpected visitor, for whom the movie has stirred up painful memories - and who wants to return to their lives.





	For Every Star In Heaven (There's A Sad Soul Here Today)

**Author's Note:**

> Nope. I got nothing. No idea where this came from only that I basically word-vomited it into a word document in a very short space of time. Otherwise known as "this was not the post-Oscars fic I planned to write".
> 
> I...don't know if I like this? But I figured I'd share it anyway. Warnings for mention of character death, Paul Prenter, heartbreak, a lot of fucking crying, and probably OOC all of them. Oh, and self-blame.
> 
> Title from Brian's song Long Away: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CeO8I0cwQo
> 
> Original concept at this ask answer on my tumblr: https://nothingelsematterswrites.tumblr.com/post/183178836433/is-it-the-oscars-answer-d-who-is-brian-and

Brian allows himself one more soft, fond smile at the pile on the bed as he backs out and closes the door. Rami hadn’t been too beaten up by the fall, thank goodness, but it had been enough to panic his lovers, and Brian was just grateful to see the way they cared for one another.

Even if it did pull painfully at his heart, at the memory of another loving, caring pile, a pile that hadn’t existed in many years.

“Reception told me that we have a visitor in our suite,” Roger says as Brian turns away from the door. He speaks softly, still not wanting to disturb the young ones in the room.

“A visitor?” Brian asks, as he takes Roger’s arm and starts moving towards their own suite. “Why would reception let a visitor into our rooms?”

“Apparently Anita authorised it before she and Sarina went off on their girls’ night,” Roger says. “It can’t be anyone bad if Anita allowed it, but for the life of me I couldn’t get her to tell me who it was.”

“Ah, if Anita wants to keep a secret, she can do so very well,” Brian sighs. “Well, let’s get this over with, and get rid of them as quickly as possible. I want you to myself tonight,” Brian adds with a lascivious grin that still makes Roger’s knees weak after all these years.

Roger opens the door to their suite and flicks on a lamp as they walk in. The room is dark, only the lamp by the door and the dim light from the lamp in their bedroom lighting it, but it’s enough for the two rockstars to see a sillhouette against the window.

A man. A tall man, grey hair thinning.

“Hello,” he says very softly, and there’s only one man in the world with that accent.

Brian feels his knees tremble from the intensity of the emotions that sweep over him; tears spring to his eyes unbidden and his throat is tight. Beside him, Roger sways; he grabs at Brian’s arm, and Brian hears the choked sob that escapes him.

And then Brian can’t resist any more. He crosses the room in three strides, dragging Roger with him, and sweeps John into his arms, burying his face into what’s left of his hair.

There’s a brief moment of stillness, before John’s arms come up and circle Brian’s waist, and he turns his face into Brian’s chest, his shoulders shaking silently. Roger is clinging on from behind like a limpet, his sobs noisy and pained, and in spite of all the tears, Brian feels a strong sense of _home_ settle over them.

This is how it was. This is how it should have been.

“I’m sorry,” John chokes, and Brian can’t help it; he tilts John’s chin up and kisses him, his fingers brushing tears away.

“Shh. Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“But it was,” and the anguish in John’s voice is like a knife through both their hearts.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Roger soothes, his voice cracking. “You’re here. You’re here, and we’re here, and we’re together now, that’s all that matters. That’s all that matters.”

John lets his head fall back against Brian’s chest, and when he sighs, it’s as though the weight of twenty eight years of grief is there in the sound. His arms tighten, and Brian smiles.

“We have a lot to catch up on.”

They stand together in silence, counting the beats of each other’s hearts, and slowly their breathing evens out again, the raggedness of tears wearing away to calm. Brian can’t help but press a kiss to John’s hair, and smile.

Eventually, John lifts his head. Roger guesses other people would say that time and grief have not been kind to their bassist, but he doesn’t care; to him John is still just as beautiful as the day they’d met, and judging by the soft expression of Brian’s eyes, he’s thinking the same.

Unspoken, Roger tugs on their hands, and pulls them towards the bedroom. John hesitates very slightly before he follows, but when he climbs onto the bed, the other two are quick to pull him into the centre and snuggle up to him, hands stroking over his body as though reassuring themselves he’s still there.

And John hates that he caused that.

“I’m sorry. It was all my fault.”

“No,” Brian says quietly. “It was ours, too. We knew…we knew you weren’t handling it well. We should have…we should have tried harder.”

John shakes his head, and swallows.

“I saw the movie,” he says, and that just confuses the other two.

“Yes?” Roger queries. “Did you like it?”

John nods. “It was…it was good. I know why you couldn’t let them tell the truth. But…that scene…” John’s voice trembles, and Brian is quick to smooth a hand down his chest comfortingly.

“The scene where…where he leaves…” John swallows. “I _wish_ it had gone down like that.”

Roger and Brian exchange glances over John’s head. To this day they have never known what was said, what was done, on that final day when Freddie left for Munich. John had been the last one to see him, and afterwards he’d locked himself in his house and cried for a week. Veronica had desperately asked if they’d known, but they hadn’t.

Though the four of them were together, occasionally they had been more like two couples who loved one another. John had been closest to Freddie, and if truth be told, Brian and Roger had secretly hoped that John could persuade their errant lover not to leave. But he had, and things had never been the same again.

“John?” Roger prompts after a moment. “Did we – did we make a mistake? Should we have asked them to do the scene differently? We only had so much control.”

“No,” John whispers. “The scene was fine. I wish it was like that.” He licks his lips, chews his bottom lip anxiously, and then continues. “The day…the day he left…”

_“Freddie, please!”_

_“It’s only temporary John, it’s such a good opportunity for me. And who knows, you might have a chance too! You could sign a solo deal yourself, you know. You don’t have to mope on after the other two waiting.”_

_John shot an evil glare at Prenter, standing in the corner observing their argument with an air of smugness._

_“Fred, we get it, we do! We’d be happy for you to do solo work if you just talked about it with us first, organised things with us, didn’t just – just leave!”_

_“Would you?” Prenter’s voice was smarmy and John wanted to hurt him._

_“Fuck off!” He scowled at Prenter and turned back to Freddie, trying to make his voice persuasive. “Fred, love, be sensible. When Bri and Rog wanted to do their solo albums, we sat down as a band and they talked through their plans with us, explained their schedules, they **worked with us** , Fred. I don’t think it’s fair that you’re not giving us the same consideration.”_

_“They weren’t signing four million dollar deals, and it’s easy to see why. Freddie, don’t listen to him. He knows he’d never get a solo deal on his own, can’t sing worth a damn, can he? He’s trying to get you to stay because he knows without you he won’t make any money.” Prenter’s tone was contemptuous, and it sent John into a raging fury._

_“I told you to fuck off, now get out!” he screamed. “You want to talk about money – we all know that’s all **you** care about!”_

_“John, darling,” Freddie said calmly, drawing his attention. “You’re being a bit of a diva, sweetheart. It’s just a few months I’ll be gone. Then I’ll be back and we’ll do Queen again. You can do this for me, can’t you, love?”_

_“No. Freddie, please. Don’t leave. Don’t leave **us**. Don’t you see? We need each other.”_

_“More like you need him,” Prenter hefted the last of Freddie’s bags. “I can see it on your face. You’re gonna pull the ‘if you love me’ card, aren’t you? Don’t bother. You don’t think Fred’s smart enough to see the way you and your wifey are poppin’ out kids every spare sec? Fred needs people in his life who are **loyal** to him. That ain’t you three.”_

_John was crushed. For a moment, the words were on the tip of his tongue. Could he do it? Could he say them?_

**_If you love me, please stay._ **

_But he didn’t. And the door swung shut behind them and left John all alone in the empty house._

“Oh, _John_ ,” Brian is aghast, his throat tightening again.

“That…that bastard,” Roger mutters, but his voice is weak.

“I…I couldn’t say it…” John swallows. “Maybe…maybe if I had said it, he’d have stayed. But I couldn’t. Because…because I was _afraid_.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“That…that he’d leave anyway,” John’s voice is almost inaudible. “That…he didn’t love me enough to stay. That…he’d chosen Prenter…over me. Over _us_.”

Roger’s fingers tighten in John’s shirt. He knows that fear. They’d all faced it.

“So…I felt like it was my fault. If I’d said it – if I’d tried harder…”

“ _No_ ,” Brian says, so forcefully it makes them all jump. “No, don’t you _dare_ , John Richard Deacon. Don’t put that on yourself. None of us could have made a difference, we didn’t realise how deep Prenter’s manipulation went.”

“Is that…is that why?” Roger asks softly. “All this time, all these years…because you blamed yourself?”

John’s cheeks flush a dull red as though he’s a schoolboy rather than a grandfather.

“Being stupid,” he mumbles, and Roger leans up to kiss him softly.

“No,” he says. “I can understand it. And we should have tried harder. We let you down, too, John – yes, we did,” he adds as John shakes his head.

“So what changed your mind? What made you come?” Brian can’t help his curiosity.

John shuffles awkwardly for a moment.

“I finally spilled it all to my therapist,” he admits. “Everything, our relationship, the fight, everything. She made me realise that I’d been blaming myself all along and it wasn’t right. She also made me see that I was punishing myself because I didn’t think I deserved you two, either. But…she also…” John glances away. “She showed me an article where you talked about…about your health, Rog. And it made me realise…I needed to be with you two again. Before it was too late.”

Brian kisses John’s cheek.

“Okay,” he says. “But why the Oscars? Why not wait until we got home and stalk us at our homes?”

“Simple,” John says. The colour is starting to return to his cheeks and something of a mischievous sparkle is starting up in his eyes. Roger finds himself staring besottedly. “No-one’s expecting me to be here. The paparazzi aren’t looking for me.”

Brian feels a smile starting to tug at his mouth. “So how did you know where we were staying?”

And a smile finally breaks onto John’s face, and Brian feels himself falling head over heels, just like he’d done nearly fifty years ago. Judging by the expression on Roger’s face, he’s feeling much the same.

“Our wives are very clever, very conniving women,” he says. “They arranged everything – your suite, the hotel, the place I was staying before tonight…everything.”

Brian can’t help but laugh, and Roger joins in, and then finally John laughs too, and the room is filled with a music that Brian hasn’t heard in long enough to make him choke on emotions again.

“ _God_ ,” he says, voice breaking, “we were _all_ so _stupid_ …if only we _talked_ …”

“We’re here now.” Roger says, though his eyes are bright. He echoes his line from earlier. “That’s all that matters, right?”

John nods. “My therapist suggested to me that it was time to let go and let myself be happy again. So…here I am. If…if you two will have me,” he adds, a little uncertainly, and is promptly showered in kisses.

“If we’ll have you? You’ll grow sick of us, we’ll be around so much,” Roger teases, and John laughs again, before his face grows more serious.

“I don’t know – if I could ever – perform, again,” he begins hesitantly, but Brian places a finger over his mouth to quiet him.

“We don’t care,” he says. “I mean, yes, we’d love you to – but if you don’t want to – as long as we get to keep you, we don’t care.”

John pulls Brian down for a kiss, his free arm pulling Roger closer, and they hardly speak again for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on Liar and Happy at Home, just going through a bit of a drought at the moment.
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr at nothingelsematters.tumblr.com!


End file.
